


Worthy

by writefasttalkevenfaster



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage AU, Author actually has knowledge of modern day arranged marriages, F/M, Slow Burn, They will not kiss for a very long time, Too Slow, We will all be very upset, although this one isn't exactly like that, including me, more like the ones that happen back home, than the ones that happen in western countries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-02 05:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19434685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writefasttalkevenfaster/pseuds/writefasttalkevenfaster
Summary: You were supposed to choose who was worthy among the fallen - but you didn't get to choose who you married..or who you fell for. (Thor x Valkyrie! Reader Arranged Marriage AU)





	1. Worthy

You were supposed to choose who was worthy. 

How ironic.

Ironic, that you were given the honor of being part of the Valkyrior, to choose those who had perished in battle or in honor, and determine who was worthy. Ironic, because then you could choose to carry them and take them to Valhalla - land of honored dead. Ironic, since you weren’t given a choice in the matter of who was worthy of being your husband. 

Perhaps it was because who would argue? 

Servants tended to your hair, creating intricate braids laced with white, fragrant flowers; others busied themselves with your wedding clothes, heming any slight imperfection, fussing over the smallest detail, and adjusting its length; the worst of them whispered quiet encouragement and tiny giggles in your ears, stating that your husband would be falling at your feet when he sees you at the ceremony. 

You doubted that. 

A proposal sent down by the King and Queen of Asgard themselves. A decree your parents called it, a demand is what it was. Soft hands tilted your chin upwards, as a soft brush swept across your cheekbones. It was nearly time if they were touching up your makeup again. A floral crown was being fitted into your hair as you thought, and still you were too afraid to look in the mirror - to look yourself in the eye. 

You had looked death in the eye many times before, and had welcomed it, but as your metaphorical death stood minutes away from you, in a suit, you were too afraid. It would be the death of your freedom, and perhaps the death of a Valkyrie. 

You were too afraid to run away was what it came down to. A tear slipped down your cheek as they drew kohl under your eyes. Too afraid to disappoint your parents. Too afraid to leave your home. Too afraid. 

The head servant placed the crown into the nest of braids, and clapping her hands together, the rest breaking out in simultaneous squealing, “What do you think, my lady?” 

You looked in the mirror. 

“It’s beautiful.” And it was. You were. 

It was ironic. You had never death as beautiful before, but perhaps it was because you didn’t think you would die this way. 

* * *

You were supposed to present your groom with a sword. You wished you could stick through his chest. It was to transfer symbolic protection from your father to your husband. You nearly snorted. Your father hadn’t protected you in a long time, otherwise he would have seen through your small smiles and silent compliance. No, this was symbolic and symbolic only. 

You only touched your husband for the first time, when he slipped the ring onto your finger to truly consecrate this ritual. His hand was much larger than your own, rougher, but gentle as he slipped the cool metal onto your finger. His touch lingered even as his hand fell away, and then, it was your turn. 

You took his hand, firmly grasping it, if only to convince yourself that this was real, that his hand in your own was not a dream or nightmare - but reality. Your ring slipped onto his, and your hand nearly fell away, but he held it there for a moment. And his eyes met your own for the first time. 

His gaze was soft, eyes wide with what seemed was quiet curiosity. Even as his thumb rubbed your palm, you refused to break his glance, and as did he, mutually stubborn in your persistence to stare at one another. What others took as love, you knew to be obstinate. 

Neither he or you were given a choice, but to break your stares, as the ceremony was completed. The two of you turned to face the crowd, presented as husband and wife. 

A start of a new life, he took your hand, engulfing it in his own, and perhaps the death of your own. 


	2. Despise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You observe things about your new husband, Thor.

The God of Thunder. Your husband. 

You didn't have the pleasure of meeting him, until your wedding night. It was your parents’ wishes, maybe it was subdue your worries, prevent the marriage from falling through. After all, how could you despise a man when you haven’t even met him? 

But despise him you did. 

Not who he was, but what he meant for your freedom. 

Who he was, was a different story, one you weren’t too familiar with, until your engagement was announced, and then you couldn’t hear enough. The only one worthy of Mjolnir, the man to command lightning and thunder, a literal God amongst men - Thor, son of Odin. 

But now as you walked beside him, making your rounds, you couldn’t help but notice how particularly normal the man was. Of course, his presence commanded a room, his laugh still rang in your ears each time he did, and his charisma, no matter how stupidly charming it was, mesmerized most, but you wondered what was so special about this man? 

A glass clinked, the King cleared his throat, “It is time for the crown prince and his lady to partake in the first dance of the evening!” 

Your husband turned to you, offering you his hand, and you stared at it, before slowly taking it, his other resting at your waist. He kept your distance miniscule, but respectable, as the music began in earnest, and you stepped in time with him, and for the first time, he spoke to you, leaning to whisper in your ear, “Are you leading or am I? I truly cannot tell.” 

You blinked at him, _is he serious?_ You couldn’t tell, a playful smirk danced on his lips, just as your dance completed, and he pressed a kiss to back of your palm, lips remaining a moment longer than needed, before he bowed to you. 

He led you away to the tables, the same smile remained on his face the rest of the evening. Still, you still couldn’t say you despised him. And, though you didn’t care to admit to yourself in that moment, you certainly couldn’t say you despised his smile either. 


	3. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You leave your family, for the first time.

“I love you,” your mother whispered reverently, pressing her forehead to yours, tears streaming down her cheeks, “I love you.”

  
You nodded silently, your own tears slipping down, wetting themselves against her shoulder. Finally you were allowed to cry.

  
Your mother had always taught you perseverance, strength in times of great trouble, and though this was supposedly a happy occasion, her words still echoed in your ears. Your father watched with wet eyes, as you turned to him, his gaze soft, “My brave, beautiful daughter,” he held your cheeks as he did when you were a child, squeezing them softly, before you buried your face in his chest, nearly sobbing.

  
This was the death of many things, but it was also the death of your family. No more shared meals, no more shared nights spent talking, no more comfort taken being in your family’s home. Your family was no more, or at least, it was no longer the same.

  
Thor stood at your side, watching all this, but said nothing. Instead, as you rejoined him, he shook your father’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder, before he whispered something in your mother’s ear, and that only made her sob again, as she hugged her new son-in-law. You watched in disbelief, glancing at him, only to see that he was looking at you too.

  
You watched your parents grow smaller in the distance, riding in a carriage beside your husband in silence. The sun had fallen to night hours ago, and you hoped the light filtering in through the carriage windows wasn’t enough for him to see the tears falling from each cheek.  
He said nothing, but his hand did rest atop your own. Warm and calloused, and you swore every few minutes he would squeeze it ever so softly.


	4. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Thor discuss the expectations for this marriage.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced,” Thor said to you, closing the bedroom door behind the both of you, “I am Thor, son of Odin.” 

It had been difficult to maintain your smile as the two made your rounds. His arm was wrapped around your own, your hand rested above his elbow. The Asgardians could certainly eat and drink their fill in meats and mead, and you were sure the King and Queen would insist on your presence the entire time, but instead, you were excused early, sent off in true Asgardian fashion to your wedding night. 

Your nerves were at their wits’ end. You didn’t wish for this. You truly didn’t wish for any of this. You knew what was expected of you - to produce an eventual heir apparent to the throne. But you didn’t know what he expected of you. You grit your teeth, steeling yourself. There were many things you could compromise, but this was not one of them. 

Tonight, you would share your bed, but not your body. 

But his introduction was something that caught you off guard. You removed the earrings that dangled from each ear, avoiding his gaze in the mirror, though you could see it was firmly fixed on you, “Should I think it ironic that my parents have wed me to someone as stubborn as I am?” Still, you said nothing, only choosing to busy yourself with your hair, undoing the intricate knots that took hours to do, but you undid in minutes. 

“You know, remaining silent the whole time will make our wedding night quite awkward,” you froze, muscles tensed, refusing to relax, as you heard his quiet footsteps behind you, “Do you know what is expected of us?” 

He stood only inches behind you, but it felt as if he was whispering in your ear, you could almost feel his breath against your neck, and you swallowed thickly, “I’m not going to play ignorant to the expectations of our people, but don’t think that I wish this for myself. I will share your bed tonight, as your wife, but I will share nothing more.” 

He remained silent for a moment, “May I?” and you blinked, looking up in the mirror to realize he was pointing to the buttons on the back of your dress. You flushed, but begrudgingly nodded. You would need to grow accustomed to this. No servants were not here to help undress yourself, nor was your mother. Tears stung at the corner of your eyes again, but you refused to cry again. Not in front of him, at least. His hands undid one, then another, and another, but as his hands got lower, you brushed him away, turning quickly to face him. 

“I will undo the rest,” and you got a look at him. 

He had stripped the ceremonial clothes in a moment, instead wearing what you assumed were Midgardian clothes, the ones he often boasted as comfortable and breathable. It was a simple white button down, two or three undone at the top, and a pair of simple pants. His hair was tied in a bun, though some golden locks still fell past in waves, brushing his shoulder. And this, he, was what you would look at, each morning before sleeping, and each morning before you rose. 

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he took a sudden step forward. You felt the urge to stumble back, but you stood your ground, you already told him what you wanted. You didn’t know what kind of man the God of Thunder was, especially behind closed doors. 

He leaned close, a breath away, but still he did not touch you. He only looked, and your hands now rested on the vanity behind you, “Can I?” he lifted his hand as permission, brushing lightly against your chin. As you felt his breath mingle with yours, you felt like you had little choice in the matter. You could start this marriage of one of two ways, and was defiance truly worth it for this? 

So you nodded, shutting your eyes in resignation. His hand came to cup your chin, tilting it upward. You readied yourself, to feel his lips cover yours, for him to swallow your taste and breath alike, but you wouldn’t let him get much farther than that. Your fingers curled around a particularly hard hairbrush behind you. Even if you had to fight. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead, you felt his thumb brush your lips, back and forth, until he left you altogether, instead reaching behind you - not for the hairbrush, but your lipstick. 

“Ah, this will do better than what I had planned,” he held up the lipstick with a sly grin, and you furrowed your brow, staring at this man in complete and utter confusion. 

_ Did he...want to wear it?  _

The answer was no, he did not. Instead, he mixed your lip tint with water smearing it on the bed, “This should satisfy both our families.” 

You stare, blinking, and your eyes fell away.  _ What was he trying to do?  _

“I know you believe me to be the object of your animosity,” Thor told you, bunching the sheets, “but I do not wish to impose on you any of my own desires or wishes. I also don’t want to restrict your freedom, as I wouldn’t want you to do the same to me. I truly only want one thing from you, Y/N,” he tossed the sheets on the floor, meeting your gaze, “I wish for both of us to always return to this bed, and lay together as husband and wife. Never angry, never resentful, no expectations. Only us.” 

You blinked at him, at a loss for words, and you would have started crying again, if only in relief, but in that moment, you only felt exhaustion. You nodded, before departing to the bathroom for a moment to change, before slumping against the door. 

You had expected many things, but you hadn’t expected that. 


	5. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the night of your wedding, you feel uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as your husband

You had spent many years asleep beside your parents. Even as an adult. That was a strange fact to most, but with your duties as a Valkyrie, not much of your time was spent at home. And when you were at home, you wished to be close to your parents. It was safe, to feel their presence beside you, their even breaths in your ear, lulling you to sleep. It was comfort. It was safe. 

But this? This was completely different. 

You slipped from the bathroom, shutting the door behind you softly to find the bedroom lights were shut, only a small candle lit by your bedside table. It was enough light for you to spot that a large figure underneath the covers that could only be your husband. 

You took careful steps to the bed, grasping the front of your robe. You moved the comforter and blankets aside, slipping in underneath. You laid on your back, staring at the ceiling. How completely  _ foreign _ this was. You turned to face away from him, closing your eyes. Even so, you could still hear his even breaths. Your eyes opened. 

You weren’t going to sleep tonight, were you? 

You tossed. You turned. You gave up. Lying in resignation, you hissed air between your teeth in frustration. His one condition wasn’t supposed to be this difficult to fulfill. It was simply sleeping beside another person. And yet, you let your eyes drift to him for the first time. His chest rose and fell, his face peaceful in his sleep, and his mouth hung open a bit, a small snore leaving his body every few minutes. 

Your lips quirked upward, a small chuckle escaping you, but you mentally slapped yourself. You needed to sleep. And you did. Well sort of. You fell into a half-sleep, restless sleep that only made you begin to toss again. Until finally, something stilled you. You felt warmth. Comfort. Safe. And you finally drifted straight to sleep. 

Sunlight awoke you the next morning, falling right upon your eyes, as you groaned, turning away, trying to escape the bright light, and you bumped into something solid. You froze, your eyes opened. You had rolled right into Thor’s back. You bit back a squeal, rolling back to your side, and the events of yesterday rushed back to you. 

It was real. You were married. You covered your face. You slipped from the bed, holding your middle. Why did you feel so warm? 


	6. Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Thor go on an adventure during your honeymoon

“Do you want to go somewhere?” You learned over the next few days of your honeymoon that your husband was an impatient man, but also a restless one. 

You were combing your hair, straightening the tangles. Your hair had retained the small waves that the braids had caused. You eyed your husband through the mirror, “Where do you want to go?” 

His eyes twinkled as they did usually when he had a bad idea. The last time was when he believed he could skip a step and butter his bread before placing it in the toaster. The kitchen counter was still scorched from the fire. 

“On an adventure. In Midgard,” He rose, changing his clothes to midgardian attire that consisted of a flimsy jacket over a white shirt and a pair of pants that seemed as if they had been ripped intentionally?

You frowned, “Do the midgardians not have better clothes?” You saw his crestfallen expression, and you couldn’t help but backpedal, “I suppose it doesn’t matter what you wear as long as you’re comfortable.” 

“Let’s go!” he rushed to your side, twisted your chair around, and you hesitated. 

“I wanted to visit with Arion today,” Thor tilted his head, and you sighed, “my pegasus.” Thor furrowed his brow, before the same smile came over his features. 

“I believe I have a way for us to both get what we want.” 

~~

“Won’t the King and Queen grow worried with our absence?” Your husband shrugged, and you looked at him, aghast, “that is not reassurance, my lord.” 

“Thor,” he repeated for about the third time today, “you always refer to me as husband or lord, but I wish for you to call me Thor.” 

“What is wrong with husband or lord?” Thor sighed, pulling you back, as a guard rounded the corner, pulling you flush to him. 

“Lord is too formal, like something my midgardian friends should call me,” he murmured in your ear, “and husband is something I don’t wish for you to call me right now.” 

He jerked his head, leading you forward with a firm hand grasping your own, and even if you knew you should be quiet, the only real sound being your footsteps echoing against the marble, you couldn’t help but ask, “Why?” 

He turned to face you, before his eyes widened, and he pulled you behind a pillar. Footsteps came and went, retreating down the hall, and as they faded, he whispered, “Right now, my husbandry to you is an obligation, not love,” his fingers caressed your cheek, “When you call me husband, I wish you to say it with affection only, or not at all.” 

You blinked up at him, your breath caught in your throat, and in a second, the moment was over, as he pulled you along, towards the stables.


	7. Jury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Thor travel to Midgard, with some complaints (mostly Thor's).

“It would have been simpler to take my hammer,” Thor muttered behind you, and you scoffed. 

“You’re only saying that because Arion didn’t take well to you,” you held Arion’s reins, running a comforting hand down Arion’s mane, as he whinnied, “It’s not his fault that you scared him.” 

“I was trying to pet him!” 

“You did it too hard. The kick was a reflex,” he pouted, and you chewed your lip, trying to chase your smile away. You faced forward, enjoying the wind rushing across your skin, the fresh air, and the wide open sky before you, “Where are we going exactly?” 

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Thor said, and you turned to look at him, his hands clutching the saddle, “If we had taken  Mjolnir, things would be much simpler.” 

“There is no way I am going to hold onto you as we shuttle through the air hanging on to your hammer,” Thor raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, “What?” 

“You’ve certainly come out of your shell the last few days,” You turned back to face forward, and you could hear the grin in his voice, “I’m glad to know I am not completely odious to you.” 

You wanted to tell him, to say that you never had hated him - you had hated the way you were married. He had been kind to you since the wedding, sweet even, but instead you said, “Jury’s still out.” 


	8. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Thor get both get jealous about one another, for the first time

“Thor!” A voice called out from behind you both, and you turned to see another young midgardian woman, device in hand, asking your husband for what he called a ‘selfie.’ Midgardians were strange creatures to say the least. Several of them had ogled the two of you as you walked by, others asked for your husband’s pictures, some even asked for your picture. 

The woman left, thanking your husband, before he rejoined you at your side, noting your displeasure, “Are you jealous, my dear wife?” 

“I’m discontent that these people have kept us from our destination,  _ husband, _ ” you bit back, and you glanced at him, spotting a shit-eating grin on his face, “perhaps I should find a fine midgardian man to take a picture with myself.” 

“Go ahead,” Thor smiled, crossing his arms, gesturing you to go off. You were red in the face, opening your mouth to reply, when you saw your husband look up at a voice. 

“Yo, Point Break, what are you doing back on Earth?” Another midgardian appeared, just as improperly dressed as your husband, a short-sleeved shirt and what midgardians called “jeans” 

Thor glared at him, “Tony Stark, do I need your permission to return to midgard?” 

“No, but a nice postcard or email would be nice,” Tony turned to you, a smile quirked on his lips, as he nudged your husband, “Who’s this?” 

You offered your hand immediately, watching Thor's outrage from the corner of your eye, “I”m Y/N L/N, do you want to take a picture with me?” 

Tony blinked at you, “Excuse me?” but looking from your grin to Thor’s horrified expression, he shrugged, “Actually, where are my manners? Of course.” 

The two of you bid your farewells, promising to stop by Stark Tower to see the team, before returning to Asgard. You grinned widely, walking away, as you looked to Thor, “Well?” Thor’s expression had been soured that entire conversation, his lips firmly in a pout, brow furrowed, before a realization seemed to wash over him, and he smiled. 

His hand brushed against your own as you walked, and again, his fingers asking for permission, which you accepted, as the two of you entered a dense crowd, “He may have a picture, Y/N, but I have you as my wife. And that’s enough.” 

You chose not to reply, only staring straight ahead, but even as the crowd finally parted, your hand still remained in his. 


	9. Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Thor adjust to life in court, including other people. In particular...a certain trickster.

When you made your return to Asgard, you realized things had changed between you and...Thor. Ever so slightly. You had grown accustomed to his company, his unique brand of humor, his small touches, and his loud personality. Marriage hadn’t been the hell you had thought it was, but - you dug your fingernails into your knees - you were sure that would change when you returned to court. You did not worry about Thor, as you did about other people. 

“What are your intentions towards my brother?” You jumped. You had just left the Queen’s side - she had been eager to get to know her daughter-in-law, as expected, tearing her away from her husband’s side for the first time in days. Thor had warned you of Loki, of his trickery. Unfortunately, his reputation had proceeded him. However, your lips twisted in a frown, you hadn’t known of the repeated trickery he had played his brother with. Thor’s sad smile still tugged at your heart, and you felt anger boil over in your stomach. 

“I feel as if I should be asking you that,” you scowled, crossing your arms, “Lord Loki.” 

Loki’s eyes narrowed, appraising you, as he took a step forward, a wry grin on his lips, and he opened his mouth, shrugging, ”I only ask because my brother is naive. He is easily taken advantage of, and though this marriage was arranged by my parents, I still wonder since you have so easily been taken with him-” You had him pinned, chest first, against the wall in a moment, twisting his arm behind him, as you looked for any sign of guards. 

“He is only easily taken advantage by you,” you hissed between your teeth, “Contrary to what you may believe, your brother cares for you a great deal, despite your efforts to repudiate that. I do not wish for my husband to be played with,  _ Loki. _ ” You pressed him further into the wall, “and if I catch wind of you doing so, you will have me to deal with.” 

You released him at once, and he staggered, disheveled now as he turned to face you. You curtsied, offering him your hand, “It was lovely to see you as always. Be sure to do something about the imprint on your face. Goodbye, Loki.” 

You felt a stare as you walked away, heels clicking against the floor, but it was not Loki. 

“Your wife nearly dislocated my shoulder,” Loki spat, as Thor rounded the corner, grinning after you as you disappeared around a corner. 

“Yes...she did, didn’t she?” 


	10. Clipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader struggles with the difference of her new home life, and is faced with a decision to return for a mission for her old life. This is for @rose_of_the_underworld and @shieldmaidenofasgard, your comments are keeping this story alive <3.

There were days you smiled, but the days you cried outnumbered them. 

Happiness was now distraction, sadness was lack thereof. 

Even though marriage hadn’t been the exact torture you imagined, it was still tough to live with your wings clipped. Tied to court, and tied to... _ Thor. _

You lived your life with as little connections as possible, especially after all the original  Valkyrior had passed. Your ranks were now growing, but little by little, and now they had lost you. Even though he didn’t wish to take away your freedom, the moment he had said yes to your hand, he had. 

Unwittingly, but he had. Court - a feather clipped. Duties as a princess of Asgard - another feather gone. Your nights spent beside her husband - the last of your time - fell. 

And so were you.

However, when the Valkyrior’s message turned up at your doorstep, you were stunned to find it in Thor’s hands. 

“Do you plan to go?” his words were low, and in spite of yourself, tugged at your heartstrings, even if you didn’t care to admit it. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “Can I?” 

He shook his head, gently taking your hand with unspoken permission, and sitting at the edge of your shared bed, just as you sat at the edge of a precipice, “I would be lying if I didn’t say I would much rather have you here beside me, but I would be a much worse husband if I didn’t allow you this choice. So it’s yours, completely your own.” He leaned closer to you, allowing you a moment to slip away, but you didn’t, instead leaning into his touch, pressing his forehead to yours, “I would be a fool to clip your wings.” 

And you were starting to believe you were a fool to think he would. 


	11. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a talk with Loki, Thor worries if you will ever return from your mission.

Several nights Thor went without you by his side in their shared bed. And he found himself awake at night, his arm mindlessly falling to the place you were once. He found it so odd, how someone who has been in his life so little, who is practically and nearly a stranger, could mean so much to him. The comfort of having you by his side, whether it was when he was in court, traveling, or in bed. The one rule he had set and you had already broken it. 

Thor had that rule for a reason - he hated to sleep alone. 

“You’re a fool, brother,” Loki scoffed at him one day, as they walked the grounds, “You’re a fool if you believe she would come back to this place.” 

“And why wouldn’t she?” 

Loki laughed, shaking his head, “Forced to marry you, forced to give up being a Valkyrie, and live in court. It isn’t exactly her forte.”

He hummed, giving a small shrug, “She seemed handle you just fine.”

Loki’s face grew red, “Your wife caught me in a particularly giving mood, but that is besides the point.” 

“Then, what is your point?” 

“A tip, dear brother, when you imprison someone, don’t let them escape.” Loki turned on his heel, but Thor called after him. 

"If she returns, that is enough for me," 

"But are you enough for her to return?" And without another word, he slipped around a corner, gone. 

With every night that passed, Thor only grew more anxious, cursing Loki’s very existence. His words kept echoing in his mind, and his mind grew dizzy with fear. Would she leave him? The way you had looked at him...it had thawed, hadn’t it? You allowed him small touches, and sometimes you even sought his. But would you seek it when you had the touch of the rushing air, your gentle touch only spared for your companions in battle. 

Thor shifted to lie on his back, staring at his ceiling, arm falling again to where you would be. 

Perhaps he was a fool. A fool for allowing you your freedom, where others wouldn’t. A fool for not tying himself to you. A fool for letting you go. But he would rather be a fool when it came to you, instead of playing politics with his own wife. 

He shut his eyes, he only wished he could wake up in your arms, and perhaps that was a fool’s wish. 

He was blessed with a dreamless sleep. Only when he began to wake, did it feel like another dream. He felt his arms curled around him, carefully draped around his middle. He had this dream before. He would open his eyes and find no one beside him again. He leaned into your supposed touch and warmth, murmuring, “Little one.” 

He was surprised to hear you speak, “I’m back, Thor.” 

He paused a moment, wondering if this was truly real, if he would wake at any moment. His fingers reached out and brushed your cheek, wondering if you would dissolve under his fingers - a figment of his want, no, his need for you. A cruel apparition that taunted him with what he wanted, and perhaps, what he never would have again. 

But you did not disappear, nor did you dissolve under his touch, like every night before. Instead, your eyes simply shut as his thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek, “I missed you,” he murmured, draping his arm around your waist, “a lot.” he admitted, and he bit back a smile, wondering what your reply would be. Would it a grin, sarcasm dripping from your tongue, as you whispered back ‘ _I know._ ’ Or would you settle for a simple nod? 

However, as soft as your fingers that came to rest on his cheek, your words were even softer, “I missed you too.” And in the moment, your touch nearly burned, a warmth that spread throughout his body, and he never had wanted to kiss you more - to feel you melt under him and under his touch, hear you gasp, hear you say his name. 

But your eyes shut, and your breathing leveled, as you buried your head in his chest, the closest you had slept next to him, and he smiled, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. 

This was enough. You always were.


	12. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After you return home from your mission, Thor sees your bare skin for the first time, and he's not happy when he finds wounds and scars.

“Who did this to you?” The one thing you had learned of your husband that it was very difficult to anger him.

Difficult, but not impossible. 

As proven evident now, his hands curled into fists, his voice booming, echoing against the walls of your shared chambers. His eyes were dark, caught between anger and concern, his lips twisted in a tight line, as the ridges of his brow were as deep as canyons. He towered over you, and in that moment, your breath caught in your throat. You never realized the extent of his power. His gentleness had blinded you, but this was not a man to take lightly. The ozone you tasted on your lips was proof of that, and you swore, you saw the hint of lightning flicker in his eyes. A deep rumble of thunder outside told you it wasn’t your imagination. 

“It was a mission, my lord, I-” He shook his head, turning on his heel and you were afraid he was going to leave, but he only punched the wall of your room, shaking the palace down to its foundation. He leaned against the wall, eyes fell to the floor, and you slowly approached him, “Thor, I am fine. I promise.” 

“Then why don't you tell me what happened?” he whispered, he turned to face you, his fingers going for the hem of your shirt, but you stopped him, “can I not touch anymore?” 

You said nothing, and you saw the pain in his expression, and it twisted a knife in your gut, forcing you to look away. The bruises and wounds you had gained during your battles were nothing, nothing compared to watching him walk away. 

So you spoke. 

“We faced an enemy of Asgard. I cannot say which, only because your parents and the Valkyrior would have my head if you decided to exact revenge upon them for my injuries,” he stopped, back turned from you, and you stepped towards him. You had never had found much need for physical contact from others. Your parents, yes. You still felt safe lying beside your mother, listening to her even breaths, or wrapped in your father’s warm embrace, face buried in his chest. But now...you felt a need. 

Your fingers brushed against his, intertwining your fingers in his, and you felt a spark - but it was not from him. You wanted to comfort him, as he turned to face you with his large sad eyes, “All I wish is to protect you from harm.” 

“And I wish to do the same for you...Thor,” and he gave a rueful smile. 

“Is it that hard for you to say my name?” 

_ It is because I can’t keep you at arms length,  _ “No,” you lied, shying away, but his fingers remained insistently wrapped around yours, “I am still getting used to it.” 

He lifted your hand slowly, pressing his lips to it again, and warmth trickled from his touch through your body, and you felt your cheeks burn, when you noticed his grin. 

“I will find out who hurt you,” his words were low, sending a shiver down your spine, “and when I do, you do not wish to know what I will do to them.” 

“Even if I ask?” 

“I do not fight and tell, my dear,” he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing you sweetly just as he had done the night before, “just I don’t kiss and tell.” 


End file.
